ABC, as easy as 123
by aprettyfacelies
Summary: Previously titled 'come along with me' - A collection of Cherry drabbles.
1. you can tell he'll be there for life

Hello there.  
>I carry with me a couple drabbles based on an alphabet drabble meme I caught sight of a while back.<br>It's a somewhat new experience for me, writing drabbles. And I know you're used to 1000+ stories from my tent, but I hope the change isn't a bad thing. My muse has been on and off lately and I think drabbles are the only thing that don't fall victim to my writer's block.  
>I do hope you enjoy them.<p>

**Please Note:** None of these drabbles are connected. They are all individual timelines.

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><p>entry number one; the letter a -<strong> autumn<strong>.

**you can tell he'll be there (for life)**  
>pg-13 (k+), 392w<br>_autumn has always been his favorite season, and her least favorite._

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><p>Autumn has always been his favorite season, and her least favorite.<p>

He liked watching the leaves sway in the breeze to the hollow tune the wind blew. She hated watching the leaves fall to the ground and get crushed by everything and anything that crossed them. He liked the need for scarves and coats that he could wrap the two of them in, and he liked the way the browns and oranges of all her outfits complimented her skin so perfectly. She hated the way she felt so out of place in her usual pinks and blues with the back drop of the warm sunsets and drying earth, and she hated how none of her ballet flats seemed to save her toes from the slight chill in the air.

But this year, he despised it. He despised it as much as she had grown to love it.

And as his fingers traced her skin, he glanced at her closed eyes and thought of what she could have been dreaming of.

Her feet were firmly planted on a wooden stage with a bouquet of roses in her hand and green makeup covering her face, neck and arms. There were tears running down her cheeks and the brightest smile on her face as she waved at a cheering crowd, a crowd cheering just for her. And there was a ring on her third finger, glittering under the green and white lights, and camera flashes around her.

He lowered his gaze to her hand and his jaw clenched, his breaths not sounding as easy and light as they had seconds before.

He was somewhere in the crowd, cheering and clapping like the rest of them. And a tower stood beside her on that stage, his arm hooked around her waist and his face nuzzled into her hair as he whispered sweet nothings and promises of congratulatory dinners and a passionate tryst under the moonlight.

He gripped her arm a little tighter, his shoulders tense as reality set in.

"You're thinking again," Rachel says in a tired murmur, having woken from the squeeze he had given her arm. She knows it's best to keep her eyes closed.

"You do that a bit yourself." Mike retorts with a humorless chuckle, loosening his grip and wrapping his arms around her waist as she snuggles herself closer to him.


	2. if love were a raindrop

This is the fastest I've updated in a while.  
>Mostly because I've written more than half of these beforehand.<br>And that concludes our 'pointless facts about the author' segment.  
>There's nothing after that segment, though. Oops.<br>Enjoy letter B, everyone.

**Please Note:** None of these drabbles are connected. They're all individual timelines.

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><p>entry number two; the letter b - <strong>bell <strong>(i sort of maybe diverted from this, kind of).

**if love were a raindrop, i'd send you showers**  
>soft nc-17 (t), 478w<br>_it's like love, but not at all. _

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><p>"Michael," she breathes into his ear. He teases her over the damp fabric, his teeth sinking into her skin and marking her as his. He knows she hates it, because she isn't his. She never will be. But he will forever be hers and it causes his heart to soar and crumble with each and every smile she sends his way, with every single touch of her hand and with all the sounds of pleasure that erupt from the back of her throat.<p>

He prides himself in knowing he's the only one capable of doing this to her.

No one else can make her lose her train of thought; no one else can get her begging for something, for anything. In a sense, it's like complete domination, but only ever for minutes at a time. It makes him smile.

It's like love, but not at all. It really isn't, but it's the closest he'll ever get so he takes what he can and sugar coats it to the extreme.

Her fingers are digging into his scalp and the moisture covering his fingers prompts his body to want more. He could easily take it, and she wouldn't protest, for she wants it just as much in this state. But he can't, because he hasn't earned that yet. He never will, he knows, but everything he can give seems to be enough to keep her coming back. He smirks because of the fact that she sort of needs him now. His smirk melts into an easy smile as she whimpers in an attempt to silence herself, his fingers slowly slipping into her, and he kisses the red bruise he's created on her lightly tanned skin.

"I love you," he whispers into her ear. She moans. But she's not moaning because of _him_, but rather because of what he's _doing_.

He likes to tell her that when he curls his fingers and hits just the right spot. For a moment, as her walls clench around his fingers, she wordlessly loves him back. Sometimes he does it twice simply because he wants to pleasure her just as much as his fabricated moments of love instead of lust pleasure his heart.

She rushes out of the closet at the sound of the bell, multiple strands of her hair still out of place and two of the buttons of her blouse undone. He remains in the janitor's closet for a few more minutes before flowing into the sea of students unnoticed. He passes her locker on the way to his next class.

The look in her eyes is so inviting, so warm. Her eyes are glazed over not with the lust she had harbored for him minutes before, but with a love he imagines she has for him sometimes.

He erases the mohawked half of the picture he sees, and replaces it with himself.


	3. painting songs

I was originally going to post this tomorrow, but then I forgot that I planned to do that and I remembered only after I uploaded this document. Oh well.  
>As always, I hope you enjoy it.<p>

**Please Note:** None of these drabbles are connected. They're all individual timelines.

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><p>entry number three; the letter c - <strong>color<strong>.

**painting songs**  
>pg-13, 298w<br>_and the colors, michael. the colors are all wrong._  
>** 'kin' is a japenese name meaning 'gold'.<p>

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><p>"I look like a giraffe," Rachel quietly said into his ear before turning her attention back to the painting in her hands.<p>

He had been too lost in the blue of the grass and the pink of the day sky surrounding the white sun to really take note of Rachel. It brought a smile to his lips, in all actuality; which rewarded him with a slap on his shoulder.

"My neck is half the length of my arms, and my eyes are visibly uneven and differ in size to the point where it looks like there's a giant button pasted over my right eye. And _the colors_, Michael. The colors are all wrong—"

He kisses her because he wants to. And because her rant is going to drive him up the wall if he lets it go any further.

"As I was saying—"

For the life of him, he'll never understand how that didn't work. He leans down to try again, and she pushes him back. For a moment, he fears that he's done something terribly wrong.

"Michael, you know you can't...Kin's two rooms away."

She bites her lip and her forehead ceases slightly as her eyes dart around the room, avoiding his entirely. He has nothing to worry about. He takes their daughter's latest art project from her hands and sets it on the bedside table behind him, using that hand to gently cup her cheek before pressing another kiss to her lips. She only sets her hands on his chest and returns it in wholeheartedly for a couple of seconds before pulling back a few inches.

"We're getting her a new art teacher tomorrow morning," she declares before pushing her husband back down onto the mattress, straddling his lap as she recaptured his lips.


	4. you teach me and i'll teach you

**Please Note:** None of these drabbles are connected. They're all individual timelines.

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><p>entry number four; the letter d - <strong>debt<strong> (i think i might have drifted away from this slightly. and by slightly, i mean a lot).

**you teach me and i'll teach you**  
>g, 341w<br>_she alternated between yellow stars and pokéballs for the icing. _

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><p>When she knocks on the front door of the Chang household, he jumps up from his seat not because of her but being he's trying to be a well mannered gentlemen. Gentlemen never leave ladies waiting, regardless of whether or not they had been counting the hours until the lady would arrive.<p>

She doesn't greet him when the door is swung open. Instead, she thrusts a tray of freshly baked sugar cupcakes into his slightly clammy hands.

He thinks it's kind of awesome how she alternated between yellow stars and Pokéballs for the icing.

"I know I promised to bring Pikachu back today, but I simply don't want to let him go just as yet, so I'm giving you these in exchange for another week with your Pokémon."

He has to admit he's a little curious as to what she spends her time doing with his childhood pal, but he decides he'll just save all his questions for another day.

With a heavy sigh (because he isn't supposed to be happy about this), he says, "Fine, one more week with Pikachu."

If letting her borrow the plush toy meant seeing her smile so brightly every single Sunday of his life, he would never want his Pikachu back. Ever.

Seriously.

Before she turns to leave, she plants a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips and skips down the pathway and down to her car. He tries to focus on the adorable sight of Rachel literally skipping away instead of the way her skirt was sinfully swaying from side to side with every step she took.

(She gets Pikachu from the backseat of her car when she gets home, because she never goes anywhere without it any longer. And at night, she sleeps with him cradled closely to her chest, the corners of her lips curled into a faint smile.

It's like she's holding a piece of Mike with her whether she goes. She's planning on doing this until one of them musters up enough courage to try and catch the other.)


	5. you've got to love the death button

entry number five; the letter e - **eat**.

**you've got to love the death button**  
>pg-13, 518w<br>_thanks for being the best partner a guy could ever ask for._  
>- <strong>(featuring sam evans &amp; tina cohen-chang) <strong>

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><p>"What are we ordering?"<p>

"Chinese." Mike and Rachel chime in unison. Tina and Sam pout.

"I kinda want pizza," Sam admits.

Tina nods her head in agreement. "And I'm tired of getting noodles on me every time Rachel fails to use the chopsticks."

Sam lowers the phone from his ear with a sigh, glancing at the three of them before pursing his lips together in silent defeat and directing his gaze at Tina and Tina alone, pleading for her to do the same. She shakes her head and folds her arms across her chest stubbornly.

Mike and Rachel don't take their eyes off the screen, Rachel apologetically nudging Mike's side when she accidentally gets Mario killed. Again. For the fourth time in the last twenty minutes. Mike doesn't really mind it at this point and he decides he needs to work on his bubbling.

_'A' button, 'A' button, 'A' button,_he chants to himself.

"Why can't we just get both?" Tina suddenly asks, averting her eyes from Sam and looking over at Rachel.

"You just don't get both," Mike decides to answer for the girl sitting next to him. "It's, like, a rule."

"That Matt invented, which doesn't make it a rule at all."

Sam shakes his head. "Don't underestimate the wisdom of the Rutherford."

Rachel gives a hum of agreement and Mike fights back the urge to smile proudly.

Tina scoffs and rolls her eyes at Sam, muttering, "Traitor," under her breath. Sam hears, but chooses not to say anything of it, simply leaning down and giving Tina a kiss on the cheek. She shies away from it only because she's trying to hide the growing smile on her lips. Damn him for trying to justify himself. Damn him for chasing away her 'anger'. Damn his really, really soft and warm lips.

"Can we have the Chinese food ordered soon? Michael and I are about two places from the castle, and I need the promise of spring rolls and noodles to get me through the level."

"Me and my kickass skills aren't enough now?" Mike asks, feigning hurt.

"You're enough, Michael," Rachel says. "You're always enough."

There's more to the statement than there really should be, but when she looks over at Mike from the corner of her eyes and sees that he's actually smiling like an (adorable, lovable, kissable) idiot, she thinks that maybe she'll award him with a kiss if he manages not to lose his temper at her for being such a horrible partner to have when playing Super Mario Brothers.

Tina tries to protest, but Sam cuts her off as he begins dialing for _Wu's Palace_.

"Chinese it is."

Mike and Rachel share a smirk and a high five before turning back to the game again, just as Rachel bounced Mario off Luigi's head and sent him flying into a Venus flytrap. Mike laughed and jokingly congratulated her for _"being the greatest partner a guy could ever ask for."_

Yes, she's definitely going to kiss the heck out of him the very moment they stepped into his car after the evening is over.


	6. it's you and me against the world

**Announcement time!** I plan on extending this series past the letter 'Z', hopefully. Also, daily updates, hopefully. And all of you that have this story of alert, please say hi just once. I'd love to hear your thoughts, hopefully. Let's try not to destroy all these high hopes, people. Kisses and teddy bears and butterflies and what-not.

Sorry for all the mistakes, if there are any that left me.

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><p>entry number six; the letter f - <strong>family<strong> (unless you play close attention, you'll never know that this word and this fic are related).

**it's you and me against the world**  
>hard pg-13, 499w<br>_and so chapter ten of the nightmare begins._  
>- <strong>(zombie apocalypse universe, just so you know).<strong>

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><p>He lifted the back of her hand to his lips and left a light kiss on her pale skin.<p>

_It'll be okay. I'm here for you. I love you._

It only made her fear more. Fear for his life, fear for her life, fear for them. She glanced up at her mother with questioning eyes, looking for reassurance that this plan was going to go smoothly, just like all the others had before. The older woman only managed a weak smile, wincing slightly as the light throbbing in her arm as she pulled the door open and slowly stepped outside.

"The coast's clear," Shelby informed them, her fingers clenching tighter around the door knob before she strode out into the open, gesturing for them for follow.

And so the tenth chapter of the nightmare begins.

Mike made a stand in front of Rachel after they had walked into the light, a bag filled with all their essential items strapped onto his back and his hand still holding hers while the other carried a gun that seemed so out of place on his person. The scars and battle wounds littering his arms along with the stubble on his chin didn't look right either. She had grown accustomed to it all over the last three months, having long given up hope of ever seeing the seventeen year old boy whose smile light up her whole world and whose embrace was given simply for the pleasure of holding her in his arms; not because he was trying to comfort her after she had violently awoken from her slumber with a petrified shriek.

They walked down the seemingly peaceful street without any words shared. Shelby was ahead of Mike and Rachel, limping slightly from a leg injury she had obtained from their last encounter with the affected. Rachel looked away and stared at the abandoned houses and dirty water flowing down the concrete pavement, not wanting to be reminded of the fact that things were definitely not okay.

An hour and three empty blocks later, the familiar sickening groans were sounding from all around them, and they broke into a run. Rachel ran up front, Mike trailing behind her as he assisted Shelby forward every so often.

She wasn't going to make it.

_I love you both. _

She told them this before she fell to the ground and offered herself up; as a distraction and in surrender.

Tears filled Rachel's eyes as Mike grabbed hold of her hand once again and quickened his pace, wanting to get as far away from Shelby as possible, wanting to get Rachel to some place safer, wanting not to be reminded of how he had watched his own mother die before him, in the backyard of their own home at the beginning of this nightmare.

Because in this world that they were living, there was no time to reminisce and to miss and to remember all those that you had lost.

They had agreed not to look back, not to _ever_ look back.


	7. silently, we suffer

entry number seven; the letter g - **goodbye**.

**silently, we suffer**  
>g, 208w<br>_he knows it's best not to say a word_

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><p>She doesn't know how long they had been laying there for, just staring up at the ceiling of the choir room. The tile pressed against her slightly exposed back had finally warmed and somehow their hands had found one another. She breathed out and smiled as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. If she turned her head to glance at him, she would have noticed he wasn't smiling with her.<p>

"I'm leaving next week," he says. "On Thursday."

Her smile vanishes.

She doesn't protest or ask for any more information because she doesn't want to hear it. She wants him to stay. He knows this, and as much as he's tried to explain how he has to go, she doesn't want to hear it. The fact that he doesn't really mind the move out of state as much as he did when his father first informed him about it is something he chooses not to tell her, for his own safety. For her heart.

"I love you," he barely hears her whisper.

He knows it's best not to say a word, or the three on the tip of his tongue, no matter how much his heart is begging him to say it, scream it or sing it back to her.


	8. we can fly to the sky

**Fair warning:** I have multiply head-canons where Mike **a)** knows Korean,** b)** is a K-Pop Idol/likes K-Pop and** c)** is in a band that sings K-Pop/K-Rock songs in which he is the lead singer and knows how to play the guitar. I'm telling you this because, well, you'll see.

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><p>entry number eight; the letter h - <strong>homecoming<strong>.

**we can fly to the sky**  
>g, 220w<br>_i want you, oh, my love._  
>- <strong>(song performed in fic, and quoted for the title and in the story, is <strong>love girl** by **cnblue**. go listen while you read this. seriously. do it. listen to that entire band's discography. do. it.)**

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><p><em>I want you, oh, my love.<em>

Rachel finds it hard to hear him over all the screams, but his eyes tell all. She fears looking away, because she isn't sure if he'll be able to find her again.

She breathes in deeply, unable to rid herself of the shy smile that's taken over her features. He sends her a wink and a smile of his own before pulling the microphone away from his lips and stepping backwards, allowing for Sam and Puck to stand in front of him, in a battle of bass and lead.

Rachel's a little curious as when to Mike learned to play rhythm guitar as she watches him bang his head to the beat Finn's playing out on his drum set, skillfully plucking away at the guitar strings.

She hardly even notices Brittany bump into her in the middle of somehow gracefully flopping her body around like a rug doll.

"Mike and the guys are amazing! Woo!"

Rachel only nods her head and finally decides to dance along like everyone around her. She doesn't take her eyes off him, and he doesn't look at anyone else in the crowd like he looks at her. And once the song comes to a close and the entire crowd's cheering for an encore, her smile grows wider, in a mix of pride and—

_L-o-v-e, girl._


	9. security blanket, i can be

I apologize for not updating yesterday, but wouldn't let me sign in for whatever reason.

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><p>entry number nine; the letter i - <strong>idle<strong> (i drifted away from this like a crazy person).

**security blanket, i can be**  
>pg-13, 386w<br>_rachel wished she had brought a camera. _

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><p>Sliding her purse off her shoulder, Rachel quietly closed the bedroom door behind her. The room was cast in a warm glow from the lamp on the desk, where the radio was playing a slow jazz song. Mike lay on his stomach in the middle of the bed, his t-shirt wrinkled beyond saving and jeans tight against his oddly curled legs.<p>

A random snore caused him to twitch, but other than that, he remained fully ensconced in la-la land.

Rachel wished she had brought a camera.

Carefully slipping her feet out of her ballet flats, careful not to make any noise, Rachel began to quietly make her way over to Mike's bed. She sat laid down beside him, causing the bed to bounce slightly and effectively waking him up from his slumber.

He opened one eye and stared, and then he opened the other and stared a little bit more. Satisfied with the sight before him and the reason for his waking, he closed his eyes again and draped an arm over her waist.

"You're going to be doing this every afternoon, aren't you?"

"Doing what?"

"Using the key I gave you to invade my privacy."

"I hardly call this invasion of privacy, seeing as I'm already well aware of what lies inside those boxers of yours."

She almost sounds innocent saying that, which really shouldn't surprise him. She's been taking acting lessons since she was five. The small smirk that's undoubtedly set on her lips is playing tricks with his mind, and he needs to change the subject before he ends up tiring himself out more by having sex with her for the third time that day.

(She didn't want to leave that morning and decided to give him a good reason to let her stay just a little bit longer. And then she had a problem with the shower head that he needed to fix. Being the gentleman that he is, how could he say no?)

"How was class?" She inquires, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Same old."

"Ah."

She laughed. He couldn't say he blamed her. His brain still wasn't functioning the way he should, and the part of it that was working well was too wrapped up in thoughts of wet legs and skin and kisses to formulate a more solid answer to her question.

As she pulled her jersey over her head and cuddled into him, he realized she was letting him have the rest of his nap. He smiled, kissing the top of her head before curling his fingers into her side and falling asleep again.


	10. carry me on

entry number ten; the letter j - jackdaw (it's a bird).

**carry me on**  
>g, 204w<br>_the swans sing when the jackdaws are quiet. (**)_  
>** a saying meaning 'the wise people will people after the foolish become quiet'. i think.<p>

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><p>"She's beautiful."<p>

Rachel crosses her legs as she eases down to the floor, her hands holding onto her locked ankles as she kept her eyes on the still bird. He walks back to her and finds a place next to her, keeping their distance.

It's a quiet and chilly few moments as they stare off into their personal spaces and ask themselves questions they wouldn't dare ask the other. His leg brushes up against her knee, and they're both shaken back into reality.

"The swans will sing when the jackdaws are quiet."

Mike only stares at her, allowing her words to sink in. A bitter tasting laugh leaves his lips as he turns his attention back to the black bird in its cage, staring at the two of them in curiosity.

"My father's never going to be quiet."

"He will once he understands this, when he understands you."

"It's been twenty years, Rachel." Reminding himself of the fact aloud only weakens his spirit and dims the little flame of hope Rachel's holding above his head.

She sighs and lowers her head to his shoulder.

"I'm visiting his office next week," she says. "I'll sing for him."

Mike looks down at her with a flash of a smile before placing his hand upon hers.


	11. home is in your eyes

You know what's sad? This would have been the perfect piece for Valentine's Day, and it's ten times more fitting than the letter you're actually going to be getting tomorrow. Sigh. Oh well.

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><p>entry number eleven; the letter k - <strong>kiss<strong>.

**home is in your eyes**  
>g, 514w<br>_"you have really pretty eyes." it's out before he can stop himself. her lips curl up slightly but as quickly as the almost-smile appears, it's gone._

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><p>His eyes are starting to burn and he clenches his fists in a desperate attempt to keep himself from giving into the temptation that is now flaunting itself in from of his eyes.<p>

Must. Not. Blink.

"You're...better than I thought."

Her smile is smug and her eyes are just as red as his probably are, and they're glistening. With tears. He realizes this just as he feels a tiny blob of water tickle the corner of his right eye.

"Story of my life, Michael."

The glistening sort of makes her eyes seem brighter. Like chocolate colored diamonds in the middle of a backdrop of white and little intruding squiggly lines of red.

"You have really pretty eyes." It's out before he can stop himself. Her lips curl up slightly but as quickly as the almost-smile appears, it's gone.

"No cheating."

"How is that cheating?"

"You can't distract me!"

"I'm not! It's the truth." It is. "If anything, you're distracting me." And she wasn't even trying to. Talk about an unfair advantage.

"Stop lying and blink already."

"No." A pause, a second stolen to admire her eyes more in silence. "Man, your eyes are really pretty."

She wants to roll her eyes to play off the blush that's slowly heating up her cheeks, but she can't because any movement would send her into a blinking fit. From the corner of her eye, she notices his hand reaching for her and then she feels the warmth of his palm against her cheek. Her skin heats up more from the contact. The combined heat from his hand and her deep red blush is comforting, safe, and strangely familiar even though she'd never experienced it before. Not with him. He hasn't leaned his face this close to hers, ever. When did his face get so close to hers? Was he really that fast or is she really so distracted by his hand and his thumb gently caressing her skin.

"Michael, wha—"

"Shh. You'll ruin it."

Her watery and burning eyes only widen when their lips meet, his having closed on impact. She doesn't know why he's doing this, or why his lips feel so unnaturally soft. But she decides she likes it. She likes it a lot. And once she accepts that fact, she allows her eyelids to flutter and shut, calming down the burning sensation with a welcomed darkness as her heart swelled against her rib cage and her hands made a grab for his shirt, pulling him closer to her.

They stayed that way on her living room couch for as long as they could, lips pressed together and chests rising and falling in time with one another, until the need for air became too much for them to bare and they parted, both taking in a breath of each other's scents (he's her vanilla and she's his apple) as they looked into one another's eyes once more. The silence was short lived.

"You blinked first."

He rolls his eyes with an amused smile before leaning in to capture her lips with his once again.


	12. i will try to fix you

Happy Valentine's Day! Have fun with this chapter that is neither happy or that romantic, but it's a long one, so I guess that's my box of sweet chocolates to you. And have I ever told you about how much I do not like exclamation points?

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><p>entry number twelve; the letter l - <strong>light<strong>.

**i will try to fix you**  
>hard pg-13, 925w<br>_he would be her light in the dark, the light he wishes he had all those years ago._  
>- <strong>(vampire universe, keep that in mind while reading).<strong>  
>- <strong>(cameo by quinn fabray).<strong>

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><p>He held her shivering form tightly in his arms, his lips pressed to her head as he tried his hardest to calm her. He ignored the pain her nails digging into his arms caused him, knowing that she needed to inflict pain upon him to numb some of her own. His whispers of encouragement and soft lullabies were overshadowed by her excessive groans and hisses of agony, but that didn't stop him from telling her that the worst would be over soon enough.<p>

He remembered when this had happened to him, in cold night in November. He had been left alone in a barn, he recalls, yelling out for a force unknown to stop the burn in his throat and the swelling of his gums. Everything was colored black and white, and his heart pumped against his strengthening rib cage at an unbearable rate. His veins felt as though they were being pricked by tens of thousands of needles and pins, all of them cutting through into his skin repeatedly.

He remembers the last few minutes before he blacked out, how he simply gave into the excruciating aches and imaginary stabs of unseen sharp objects piercing into his skin. How everything blurred before taking the shapes and sizes of his worst nightmares and jumping at him as he let out his final scream that night.

He promised himself he wouldn't let that happen to her. He wouldn't have her suffer as much as he had. If he had a choice, he wouldn't have had this girl suffer at all, for she didn't deserve the life his master had served her. But there was nothing he could do to reverse the recycle, only protect her from the many struggles and dangers that awaited her.

He would be her light in the dark, the light he wishes he had had all those years ago. And should his - should their - master wish to dispose of him at some point, he would be sure to drag the girl in his arms with him into their second death. He knew from experience that death would be better than having to live under the command of his master, alone. He had lived through the torture by himself for one too many decades; he wouldn't let the same happen to her.

Allowing her to go through this with him didn't make him any better of a person, in his mind, but there really wasn't any way to get something positive from this life. He would mull over his choices for a few nights and forget about his mistakes and all the blood on his hands one morning, repeating the cycle on a clean slate free of guilt and regret that would eventually pile up again. It was a vicious cycle, but he had had years to perfect his act.

He'd teach her the cycle too. He'd teach her to be the same soulless and disgusting blood-razed monster he was. There was, after all, no other way for their kind if they wished to survive in this second life.

When she stops moving in his arms, he peers up at their master before planting delicate kisses up the drying path of blood that had stopped running down her neck. She seemed to sink into his embrace now, instead of fighting it off. He realized she was finally in the stage of acceptance, and it was a triumph considering it had taken him ages to get to where she was. He wondered how long it would take her to trust him. Just him, the only known 'saint' among a breed of merciless sinners.

"We'll feed at dusk."

He could only nod at the words as he watched his master, his maker, his murderer, step out of the cabin, noting her blonde hair and pale skin being kissed by the sun just before she slams the door shut. It was only then when he realized that long streams of daylight were coming in through the windows surrounding them. He used to wish that that part of the myths were true and that his skin would be devoured by the sun's rays. If only it was so easy to escape this life.

"She seems nice," the girl in his arms husks out, as if almost humored by the older woman's behavior. He smiles at this for a moment, for what reasons he isn't entirely sure. He chooses not to respond, though, for he fears he wouldn't know how. Conversation over something other than the latest kill had slowly become lost to him over the years.

And a few seconds later, out of absolutely no where, she sings out a string of 'La's'. Her voice sounds strained but somehow, there's still life in the sound of it all, like she managed to tangle her voice up with a little bit of hope. She stops after the tenth la, clearing her throat and closing her eyes with a heavy sigh. It's relief, he realizes. He remembers feeling that way when he was finally able to get back onto his feet and dance without his every limb silently threatening to tear itself off from his body. He doesn't remember feeling relief since then. He thinks that maybe that might change at some point, with her around.

When her breathing seems to even out and her body grows a little heavier, he realizes he isn't going to be her light or savior in all of the darkness and bloodshed that is to come.

She's going to be his.


	13. home sweet hell

Yes, I know, I know, I'm sorry. Education drains me, incredibly. I'm really sorry.

* * *

><p>entry number thirteen; the letter m - <strong>mediocre<strong> (i strayed from this, like, a lot).

**home sweet hell**  
>pg-13, 451w<br>_she stills remembers the reason why she was still in this dump in the first place._

* * *

><p>Mike finds her behind the counter, in the same exact red and blue diner uniform and her hair tied back in a messy bun. The spark of hope in her eyes had disappeared, replaced by an unwanted acceptance of the life she has now, and the little bounce in her step has been replaced by a tired walk accompanied by slumped shoulders. As he sits himself down on a stool and takes the hat off his head, he wonders if she's forgotten his face. When she turns to him, notebook and pen in hand, she flinches slightly at the sight of him. Of course she still remembers the reason why she was still in this dump in the first place.<p>

She swiftly walks past him, having no desire to see more of his face than she absolutely has to, making her way to one of the newly occupied tables in the diner. His eyes follow after her for a couple moments before another waitress calls for his attention and he turns to the girl and lets her take his order.

She lingers around the sea of eating customers for a little longer than she needs to before she has to make her way back to the counter to put in orders she had written down. He purposefully keeps his head down when she walks by, tapping away at the keys of his phone. She's thankful enough to clear her throat and get his attention. He looks up from the phone in his hands and manages a nervous smile, not really knowing how to react to her. She tells him she'll be right back, knowing that getting the orders to the chef was her first priority. When she returns, he has an iced tea in his hands. Just like the last time, she recalls.

"It's good to see you again," he says, and she nods. She appreciates the fact that he has the decency not to mention her wellbeing or her current place of employment right off the bat.

A couple minutes tick by as they just look at each other and at everything else before he speaks up. "There are a couple of roles I know of that you'd be perfect for, and auditions start up after the holidays." She can only nod her head at this information, knowing exactly where he was going with this. "If there isn't anything tying you down here again, you're more than welcome to come back to Los Angeles with me."

Another chance, she muses, without a boyfriend filled with nothing but empty promises to hold her back.

"I'll think about it," she tells him as she walks away. He knows her answer is yes.


	14. the reunion

**Warning:** Writer's block. Can't write letter T and onwards. There might be a mini hiatus in the future, but I'll be posting other one-shots and such so I hope it makes up for it. Glee is also very annoying and saddening, which makes it hard to write without me thinking of all that they're doing wrong. Which, in the mind of a crackship and nothing else shipper, that's everything. Well, when it comes to Mike and Rachel and their partners, anyway. I apologize in advance if it comes to that.

* * *

><p>entry number fourteen; the letter n - <strong>new york<strong>.

**the reunion**  
>g, 441w<br>_"don't you have somewhere else to go?"_

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><p>The streets of New York are the last place Rachel expects to see Mike after all this time. He was pretty much a forgotten memory in the very back of her mind until he bumped into her and caused her to drop the books she held in her arms. For the first few seconds, they were a mess of apologies huddled over her fallen lyric sheets and music books in the middle of the busy sidewalk, and then she took note of the sound of his voice. She was surprised to be met by his eyes when she looked up from all her fallen rehearsal material. His smile hadn't changed one bit, she realized.<p>

As they got back up on their feet, dusting off their clothing, she asked him where he had been hiding himself from the world. Turns out he had travelled to New York about the same time she did because he got accepted into NYU. She doesn't try to hide the fact that she's very impressed by this. She informs him that she's been studying at Julliard and he says he had no doubt she'd find her way there after graduation. The lively chitchat dies down somewhat and an air of awkwardness soon engulfs the two of them as the memories of their less-than-pleasant final goodbye three years prior slowly start to pool in their thoughts. Their hearts ache at the memory of it as they realize that they haven't exactly gotten over it; or over each other, for that matter.

She's the one who eventually breaks the silence and tells him that she has to get going. He asks her where to, and she excitedly informs him about the rehearsal she's going to for a little film project one of her friends is putting together. She's got the lead role, of course. He smiles at her as she talks animatedly about it all, realizing how little she has changed since high school.

"Would they mind if I came with you?" He asks her. "I promise to be quiet, and out of everyone's way. Like a ninja." His words reward him with her laugh that rings through his ears like heavenly bells.

"I suppose they wouldn't, but don't you have somewhere else to go?"

He remembers the girl that's waiting for him at a coffee shop about two blocks away. He knows she'll probably split from him because of his unannounced rain check, and he knows that he couldn't even bring himself to care.

"Nope," Mike says, taking hold of Rachel's hand and beginning to walk in the direction she had been walking in before. "I'm all yours."


	15. skins

So, smutty drabbles. To write or not to write, that is the question.  
>Also, "OST" means "Original Soundtrack" Basically, the little shot was inspired by or written when I was listening to the song, and the reading expierence would probably be greater if you listened while you read.<p>

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><p>entry number fifteen; the letter o - <strong>october<strong>.

**skins**  
>hard pg-13, 162w<br>_somehow, even though they want ten times more, this is enough._  
><em>- <em>**(ost: skins - fat segal) **

* * *

><p>She's pulling him down by his shirt collar and before he knows it, her lips are latching onto his neck. He lets out a breathy chuckle as his hands place themselves down on the ground and he faintly hears the leaves crunch beneath his fingers.<p>

The autumn breeze is ever so inviting, but the sound of her quiet whimpers makes him want her more. His hand finds hers and he laces their fingers together as he dips his head down and captures her lips with a thirst and need she easily returns.

She's pulling and tugging helplessly at fabric because even in this hazy state of mind, she wouldn't dream of exposing more skin than necessary at such a public place, even if they were covered by the dark yet star-light sky. A few buttons are undone and her skin is hitched up a little more than it should but, and somehow, even though they want ten times more, this is enough.


	16. the dj is mine

What's that club song that everyone used to sing? Oh yeah, something in the club blah-blah-blah hey momma what you need? Gimme gimme love, something-something- sexy, something love so come give me a hug. We gon' drink Bacardi like it's your birthday, something-something, like it's your birthday. I don't know why I started thinking about it, but I did.

Back to something that is actually relevant to these drabbles, I'm having a bit of trouble with picking a word for T. If you could help, that'd be great!

* * *

><p>entry number sixteen; the letter p - <strong>party<strong>.

**the dj is mine**  
>pg-13, 158w<br>_dance for me. _  
>- <strong>(ost: the dj is mine - wonder girls) <strong>

* * *

><p>He looked up from his turn tables to find a petite female getting herself a pair of earphones and putting them on her head. He furrows his brow for a moment before scooting to the side to allow her space, looking away from her and back to the records spinning under his fingers.<p>

"No dancing for you tonight?" He asks over the music.

"Nope, I thought I'd keep you company instead."

He breathes out a laugh, nudging her side as he divided his attention between his job and the familiar face that he would never admit to watching whenever she made her way here with her usual company of three girls and a constantly changing male extra.

"Dance for me here, then." He requests. With a smile and a nod of her head, she keeps a hand on his shoulder as she swayed along with the beats of the music, emitting a laugh whenever their eyes would meet.


	17. doors close, and the chemistry grows

I'm pretty sure I'll be on a hiatus from this drabble collection after I've hit 'S'. Oh, wow, such perfect timing it's like I planned it to be lined up with the show's hiatus as well. What kind of crazy magic is this~  
>With each and every author's note, I become more and more incoherent, irrelevant, and seemingly insane. Hi. I'm sorry. I'll try and be more professional from now on.<p>

* * *

><p>entry number seventeen(?); the letter q - <strong>queen<strong>.

**doors close, and the chemistry grows**  
>pg-13, 1193w<br>_he seemed decent enough, she supposed, but she feared the idea of interacting with the man who refused to see less than a few hours worth of sunlight._  
>- <strong>(royalty-verse, with royal people and royal things, yay. also, korean)<strong>.

* * *

><p>Rachel held onto her mother's hand tightly as she made her way down the flight of stairs, occasionally sending a brief glare up at her father on the right, cursing why she had to go through with this. She still had more than five years before she would be obligated to take her mother and father's place on the thrown. Why couldn't she simply enjoy her carefree life for a little while longer? Boyfriends that were to become husbands meant even more royal duties on top of her general training, education and breakfasts, brunches and dinners; which also meant less time dancing around in the castle's pavilion in her ballet shoes and less time to trout around the courtyard upon Genevieve, her trusty steed and probably her closest friend.<p>

She suppressed a groan. Her dress was making it a point to squeeze her waist painfully, as the white heels she worn seemed as though they were ready to trust her forward and onto the tiled floor the closer she got to the last step.

There was a large chunk of her that wanted to rebel and simply run back up the stairs, tear the dress of, kick her shoes to the side and lock her bedroom door until her mother and father promised to rid her of this marriage, just for a little while longer. But she recalled the reason why her mother had so readily agreed to offer Rachel's hand in marriage in the first place. She was the Northern region's last hope at avoiding poverty within the kingdom, for all of their mines had seen their last slab of wealth and the King Michael hadn't known what else to do but to seek advice from his friend of five years, her mother, Queen Edeline.

The kind-hearted and quick thinking woman as fast to offer her daughter up as their saving grace, her father Hiram readily agreeing with the plans for he wanted his daughter to start focusing on things outside of the arts. She couldn't blame her mother, Rachel knew she probably would have done the same should she be in the same position, and of course, Edeline had given Rachel all the time in the world to make things work with this faceless prince who rarely left his castle for anything other than his regular morning stroll around his father's kingdom on the back of his white horse, merrily greeting the commoners outside the castle walls and buying something from every other store and stall before making his way back home. Or, at least, that's the story her maids had fed her with.

He seemed decent enough, she supposed, but she feared the idea of interacting with the man who refused to see less than a few hours worth of sunlight.

As the family figures of the Kim family came into view, all the air seemed to leave her lungs and the room felt unbearably hot. Rachel gave her mother's hand yet another squeeze which Edeline returned, giving her daughter a reassuring smile before stopping her walk and releasing Rachel's hand and making her way over to where the Kim family was situated, Hiram lacing his hand through his daughter's to keep her from following after her mother.

"What is it, father?"

The brown haired man parted his lips to speak before letting out a breath of air and closing them, simply settling for a small smile before guiding Rachel to the main lounge, his hand squeezing the life out of hers. She took comfort in the fact that he was probably as nervous about this as she was, if not more.

"You'll love him, he's gorgeous."

Rachel raised an eyebrow at Lacey's whispered comment, but the maid simply gave Rachel a wink and her arm and adjusting the back strap of Rachel's gown before hurrying away from her and going to back looking like she was doing her work. Rachel released a soft chuckle at her sitter's comment, which lifted some of the brick off of her shoulders.

She politely bowed her head after her eyes made contact with King Michael's, doing the same after she had turned to his wife, Juliette. What she could only assume was their son had his back turned to side and he was nervously fidgeting from side to side. Rachel wasn't exactly sure why this action made her smile just a little bit more.

Edeline made her way back to Rachel, grinning widely at her daughter. Rachel couldn't help but notice that the woman's eyes seemed to sparkle, and she realized that even though she might not have been the most vocal about it between her two parents, Edeline was excited about the prospect of her daughter marrying. She always did have a thing for fairy tales, Rachel realized, even after living through her own.

"Dear, this is Prince Kim Min Hyuk, of the Northern region."

When he turned around, Rachel quickly realized what Lacey was on about. Though his features seemed riddled with nothing but nerves, he was like one of the painting she had hung up on her bedroom wall. Perfectly detailed and telling, and something almost impossible to get one's eyes off of. For someone who spent more time indoors than he did outside, it was amazing how colored his skin was. A delicious color cream that was tinted with a splash of tan. And his eyes shone like a star did against the backdrop of a dark yet clear summer's night sky. He gave her a somewhat awkward bow before his lips formed a small and brief smile, taking a couple of steps towards her, holding his gloved-hand out once he was close enough and taking her free hand in his own, lifting the back of it to his lips.

"I prefer to go by Mike. Mannaseo bangapseumnida, princess."

If his appearance alone wouldn't kill her, his voice would do a pretty good job of it. As would the feel of his soft and silky lips pressed ever so slightly against her skin. She hadn't realized she was staring until her mother lightly jabbed at his side, causing her to jump slightly before clearing her throat and bowing her head, a shaky smile upon her lips.

"Pleased to meet you too, prince Mike."

Their eyes met and for a moment, she could have sworn her heart stopped. The room was utterly silent in her ears, aside from the rapid beating of her heart that was probably breaking a hole through her rib cage, it was pounding so furiously. Her mother was the first to break the silence, causing Rachel to blush furiously as Mike let go of her hand and took a step back, his own cheeks colored a subtle pink.

"Right this way, everyone." Edeline called, gesturing for them all to make their way into the dining room, sending Rachel a knowing smile before making her way in with everyone else. Rachel lingered around long enough to linger just in front of Min Hyuk, who gave her a bright smile when she turned her head to steal a glimpse of him over her shoulder.

Urin seoro cheonnune banhaesseoyo.

* * *

><p><strong>*<strong> the last line means "**it was love at first sight.**"  
><strong>**<strong> mike says "**pleased to meet you,**" before he kisses her hand.

and yes, the Kim family are of Korean descent, which is why his formal name is Min Hyuk. Told you I had a lot of head canons involved Mike and Korean things.

******* the title comes from the song "**to be a princess**" from _barbie and the 12 princesses_. yes, i still watch barbie/listen to barbie related tunes. no shame.


	18. get away

entry number eighteen; the letter r - **run**.

**get away**  
>pg, 222w<br>_if they catch you, then you know you're through._

* * *

><p>He piles everything he can against the wooden door as she leans against the wall beside him, trying to catch her breath and stop her limbs from shivering so much. She hears the slightest creak and gestures for him to stop. Cautiously, he takes a few steps closer to her, taking her hand in his own as he allowed his body to give into his exhaustion, even for a little while.<p>

"Splitting up was a horrible idea," she tells him in a tired whisper. He resists the urge to laugh.

"Told you so." He says, earning him an elbow to his side, causing him to hunch forward a bit as a groan slipped past his lips.

"What are we going to do?"

"Hope Quinn and the others found help?"

She chewed on her lip in thought before taking a few steps away from the wall, keeping her hand in his.

"We have to find another way out of here."

He agrees with a curt nod of his head, glancing around for an open window large enough to ensure them a silent and (hopefully) swift escape. There's a bang on the door when he catches sight of an alternative exit and he sends a glance toward the door before picking her up and hurriedly working on getting her out to the other side.


	19. sometimes

**sometimes**  
>pg, 151w<p>

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Mike can't help but stare.<p>

She's perfect with all her many imperfections, and she carries all her worries on her shoulders with a smile that seems so effortless and yet so real it's hard to believe there's not a trace of genuine happiness to it.

Sometimes, Rachel can't help but cry.

In the privacy of her room, with a hair brush in her hand after finishing a rendition of yet another heartbreaking song that she'll inevitably perform at rehearsal sometime in the future. In front of him and in front of the girl that owns him. Or so she thinks.

Sometimes, Mike wishes he was brave enough to take her into his arms and promise her a forever without some much pain.

Sometimes, Rachel wishes they were strong enough for more than secret meetings on Saturdays in their secret spot in the park, hidden from the rest of the world.


End file.
